I don't care any more, about so many things that seemed so important not so long ago. So, so, so. That's part of why having children must seem so odious to those who don't. Parents stop caring about other things - things shared - and divert their attention and concern to only the one thing, and that one thing can not possibly hold others' interests the way that it does a parent's. So, so, so.
What can be said about it?
What can be said about it?
I read articles that discuss, statistically, a person's late in life dissatisfaction and disappointment with having had children at all. Many report a sense of disillusion with the results of procreation. That seems plausible. It's perhaps no good to wrap up so much in something whose trajectory is outward. But it is a lot of fun for now, and until very recently it helped keep me from peering too much inward.
The LSD experience can be an interesting one. Acid. If you do it enough times then eventually you will find yourself alone as the drug wears off, with the sensation that all of your friends have drifted away from you and are off elsewhere. Or, if you're like me then you might experience that. Many experience their worst fears come to life's immediate horror at these times, and only wish for the drug to wear off and for the experience to be over, and to sleep. Not me. It's during those times of intense self-reflection that I am most interested in what the drug tends to invite. I would treat it as a sort of spiritual house-cleaning, as mawkish as that may sound. Along with so much expected reflection there was also a recognition of the simplicity of certain things, the sound and tone of one's own voice, and the nature of the things the mind says to itself if you let it.
Lately, for reasons I don't understand, my inner voice has been unusually despondent, and filled with grayness. I'm trying to listen and not be consumed, to laugh along with my own self-directed observations, no matter how bleak. It's not always easy. The years drifting by have a way of robbing some of the frivolity of life, its laughter. I've never been a very lighthearted person but I always felt that I was filled with some strange humor that helped get me by. I felt as if I was getting away with skipping class after class, but now I awake with irrational fears that I have left some assignment undone, and irreverence alone does not always transcend the baseless imaginings. Or, not any more.
I've played a handful of songs on the guitar this morning. I can hear the uncertainty in my voice when I sing. You might hear it, too.
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